


Fictober 2019: Dragon Age Inquisition Drabbles

by MistressNoriko



Series: Fictober 2019 [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fictober 2019, Fluff, Kissing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 04:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20901731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressNoriko/pseuds/MistressNoriko
Summary: A collection of drabbles (500 - 2,500 word scenes) written for Dragon Age Inquisition, inspired by Fictober Prompts.





	1. I might just kiss you (Josephine & F!Adaar)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fictober 2019
> 
> Thank you Tumbler user ieatlazers for the prompt submission! 
> 
> Prompt #5 – “I might just kiss you.”
> 
> Fanfiction – Dragon Age Inquisition
> 
> Josephine Montilyet/F!Adaar

“I might just kiss you,” Herah said, a smirk pulling at her lips as she looked down at her ambassador. “I’m sure that that would win some sort of points for this ridiculous game you keep telling me about.”

A blush blossomed across Josphine’s impeccably sculpted cheeks, but that didn’t stop her frown form as she dropped her hands from the qunari’s hips. 

“My lady, dancing will be of the utmost importance when you attend the ball at the Winter Palace.” She sighed and then rested her forehead in her hand, her fingers digging at her temple. 

A cold breeze flickered through her private chambers, causing Josephine to shiver in front of her. Looking up, the inquisitor could see that the sun was setting over Skyhold. Their dance lesson apparently had gone longer than the hour Josephine said she could spare to try and teach her before she finalized preparations for their departure to Halamshiral in the morning. 

Despite years of fighting, dual-wielding daggers did nothing for her coordination when it came to dancing to a rhythm, leading another person, and remembering steps to traditional human dances. She was deft at jumping into situations and maneuvering in battle - but a dance floor was foreign. 

“Perhaps I should have hired a tutor for this weeks ago,” Josephine said as she brought her hands down to her side in defeat. 

Herah frowned. “And when would I have had time to work with this tutor? I doubt I’d be able to practice my footwork while fumbling through the fade. Again.” 

“You’re right.” She shook her head, looking more defeated. “I can’t expect you to stop what you’re doing for all of Thedas to partake in dance lessons.”

Seeing her look so defeated gave the qunari an unfamiliar pang deep in her chest. She didn’t like the worried crease on the woman’s brow or the way her eyes darted around the floor as she chewed on her lip. Josephine was normally the most composed person in the room. Seeing her like this was unsettling. 

Herah took one long step forward and slid her hand around the woman’s waist, tilting her head downward. Josephine looked up, her expression startled out of her thoughts. The two had become close in the last month since Herah’s band of misfits had returned from Adamant Keep. They’d started stealing moments alone in the garden and Herah would always make a point to stop and talk with her whenever she had downtime. She had hoped that Josephine mentioning dance lessons would turn out to be a euphemism for taking a step further in their time together, but the woman had been unreasonably serious about the need to impress the throng of nobles and diplomats that would be amassed at the Winter Palace ball, and that that could make all the difference in _ the game _, especially considering being a qunari had apparently already put her at a disadvantage according to Josephine’s sources in Orlais.

“C’mere,” Herah said, gently pulling Josephine closer to her.

Josephine’s body was pliable and moved without resistance, her arms automatically moving to rest on the inquisitor’s front as she leaned against her, unabashed as she let her cheek rest on her breasts. It had become a simple comfort early on, as their height difference made it difficult to rest against anything else. But Herah enjoyed it, especially because it never failed to make the woman blush warmly when they parted, no matter how many times they’d embraced this way before.

“I just - I can’t bear to see you fail at this, my lady.”

Herah smiled and brought her other hand up, curling her finger under Josephine’s chin and tilting her face upwards. 

“So Andraste or the qun didn’t bless me with natural grace for social situations, but-” she continued, cutting Josephine’s protest off in her throat. “I have you. I can’t fail so long as you’re with me. I might stumble on the dance floor when we get there. But if it means more time alone with you, I’ll gladly spend every spare moment I have before the ball learning to dance from you.”

The shorter woman smiled, the rosy hue in her cheeks flushing a darker shade. Herah returned the smiled before she leaned down and captured her lips with her own. Her lips were always so warm and inviting that she imagined that the feeling was similar to the sensation that a templar felt when they consumed lyrium - every inch of her body always felt alive and at attention when her lips met Josephine. It made it impossible to keep their exchanges chaste and Herah was baffled at how they hadn’t gone farther than their shared garden and balcony kisses. The pull she felt from Josephine was more intoxicating than anything she’d ever felt before, which made her want to savor it. What it was between them, Herah wasn’t in any rush for it to end.

Josephine’s weight shifted, as she leaned more heavily against the inquisitor, her arms moving up to wrap around her neck as their kiss deepened. Herah smiled inwardly - the shift in weight meant that Josephine’s foot had gone up, leaving her uneasy on her single planted foot. 

Without thinking it through, Herah moved both of her hands around the woman’s waist and lifted her from the ground and began walking backward.

“Ah!” Josephine protested, breaking their lips apart. “Lady Adaar, what are you doing?!”

Herah let a small chuckle escaped her throat before she sat down on her couch, placing Josephine in her lap. 

“Indulging?” She leaned forward and kissed her ambassador again. “Let’s take a short reprieve from dance lessons to enjoy each other. Hmm? Then we can get back to fancy footwork and proper hand placement.”

“Lady Adaar,” Josephine said, her tone failing to sound as serious as she was trying to make it. “We leave--”

“If you’re going to keep kissing me, Josie,” Herah interrupted. “Then, for maker’s sake, call me Herah. We have no need for titles between us anymore.”

Josephine blinked as the qunari’s words and unsaid indication of what that meant took a moment to register. A flirtatious smile slowly spread over her lips as she leaned forward, her lips hovering a mere inch under Herah’s as her hands slid up and over her collar bone, back around her neck. “Well, a break sounds rather agreeable when you put it that way.”

She didn’t have the patience for her normal witty retort, but instead closed the distance between their lips, her hands urging Josephine closer. 


	2. Patience… is not something I’m known for (Cassandra & F!Adaar)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, @natsora for the prompt submission! 
> 
> Prompt #24 – “Patience… is not something I’m known for.” 
> 
> Fanfiction – Dragon Age: Inquisition
> 
> Pairing – Cassandra Pentaghast and F!Inquisitor (F!Lavellan)

“Patience,” Cassandra paused as her gloved hand gripped the hilt of her practice sword tighter. “Is not something I’m known for.”

“I know,” Ellana responded as she felt her expression fall. “But we’ll find the other Seekers as soon as we can. There are just so many competing priorities right now.”

Cassandra frowned. “You’re the Inquisitor. You say what is most important. You lead our troops. You–”

“Tell me more about what my duties are, Cassandra. Please,” the elf said sourly. “Because clearly I’m unaware of the full scope of my responsibilities at this juncture.”

“I,” Cassandra sputtered, blinking rapidly. “I did not mean to offend, Inquisitor.”

Ellana sighed and shook her head. “It’s been a long day, Cassandra. Perhaps what we both need is rest.”

Without waiting for a response, the elf turned on her heel and walked away. It wasn’t that Cassandra was asking too much; Ellana agreed that finding out what happened to the Seekers was important, especially after Lord Seeker Lucius was found out to be an Envy demon. There was just so much corruption in the world, it was hard to make the decision on which to investigate what first. 

As she passed the edge of the tavern building, the sound of metal hitting padded leathers and wood rang through the small alcove created by the various structures within Skyhold’s walls. Ellana looked over her shoulder to watch Cassandra bring a powerful swing down, cleaving the training dummy in two. 

She licked her bottom lip. There was no denying that the Seeker was an impressive woman. Ellana often wondered what she looked like under all of her armaments. Would she see muscled skin marred with more scars, like the one on her face? Would her waist still be accentuated without the added sway of a sword hanging from her hip? Would her hands feel calloused against her own skin?

But the question that tantalizingly hung in the back of the elf’s head was: Would Cassandra enjoy being seen in such a manner by another woman?

She’d never felt attracted to shemlen before, but Cassandra was so severe, that at times she reminded her of some of her fellow dalish warriors. The woman had a spirit of righteous vengeance that wasn’t overly pious and was more raw and aligned with nature than doctrine and scripture of the Chantry. And that intrigued the elf more than anything.

She quietly walked back and leaned against the tree near Cassandra’s training area. Few others made use of it, and the Seeker was the only person currently using it. Ellana suspected that everyone else was at dinner or drinking their worries away in the tavern with the Chargers’ crew. But out here, in the cold mountain air, Cassandra trained, working her frustrations out as she felled another training dummy.

She enjoyed watching the severe woman practice her swordsmanship, but she wouldn’t admit that to anyone presently – instead, she would say that she was watching her form, trying to learn a thing or two whenever she had been caught previously. The truth was she watched because she was attracted to the older shemlen woman. Watching her form as she used a sword allowed her to watch how her body moved and made her wonder about other _ things _the woman might be good at with her hands. 

The elf was thankful that no one was around to watch her now. Her lip rolled through her teeth as she watched Cassandra from behind unabashedly. She always saw her back when they were out on missions. Being an archer, Ellana kept to the back of everything, providing cover for her teammates. She rarely had to intervene or provide cover fire for Cassandra; her arrows were usually more actively protecting Solas and Blackwall who seemed to have the largest blind spots out of anyone she’d ever traveled with. 

Cassandra pulled her sword out of the splintered ruins of the post and inspected the blade with her gloved hand. 

“Ugh.”

Ellana smirked and couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stay upset at Cassandra for long. 

“You know,” she started. “You make that noise a lot.”

“What?” Cassandra asked, completely caught off-guard as she turned on her heel with a start. She was apparently unaware that she’d had an audience. When she made eye contact with Ellana, she frowned, squinting her eyes slightly. “What noise?” Cassandra demanded defensively. 

“Oh, you know… grunts, groans... general sounds of dissatisfaction.” 

“I do not make grunting noises,” Cassandra objected. “I’m simply practicing!” She moved to turn back to the dummies but then stopped mid-turn and turned back. “And I save my sounds of dissatisfaction for Varric.”

The Inquisitor smiled as Cassandra furrowed her eyebrows with her iconic frown. She then scoffed and turned fully back to her practice dummies and readied her sword to swing again. 

“And what about the other noises?”

“What?” Cassandra brought her sword down, looking over her shoulder.

“You know,” Ellana pushed off of the tree and took several paces towards the older shemlen. “Sounds of satisfaction?”

Cassandra turned around and blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

The elf smiled and took a few final steps to put herself well within Cassandra’s reach, making the older woman look confused, but not uncomfortable to Ellana’s delight. 

“What part was confusing?” she asked as she moved a hand to tenderly touch the other woman’s shoulder. “Because if you’re unsure, I’d be more than happy to see what sounds of satisfaction I could get out of you.”

“Ugh,” she sounded as she rolled her eyes. She brought her hand up, swatting Ellana’s hand away gently. “Satisfaction is not so easily attained.”

Ellana blinked, feeling a blush blossom on her cheeks at how dismissive Cassandra was of her advance. “H-how do you mean?”

Cassandra quirked an eyebrow. “_ That _type of satisfaction… doesn’t interest me.”

“Define _ that type, _ if you please,” Ellana attempted to tease, but her voice came out small as her cheeks burned hotter. What was she doing? The woman seemed to make it clear that she wasn’t interested. Why was she continuing to push?

The muscles in Cassandra’s jawline pulsated. “Quick. Messy. Meaningless. How is that satisfying?”

“Wait…” the elf said, confidence returning to her tone and stature. “You mean to tell me that you’re a romantic?”

There it was. The slight, palest shade of pink graced the Nevarran’s cheeks. “And if I am?”

“I thought patience wasn’t something that you were known for,” Ellana playfully teased, using the Seeker’s words against her.

Cassandra’s mouth opened with a start and she blinked several times. The pale hue of pink turned into a shade of red, looking more than just cold wind touched cheeks. The woman was truly blushing. 

“I am capable of patience, Inquisitor.”

“Mhmm, if the end result is flowers and poetry readings as a prelude to more intimate moments, perhaps?”

“Uugh,” Cassandra groaned, rolling her eyes again as she took a step back. “It’s late and we’re traveling in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Tell me,” Ellana asked, reaching her hand out to catch Cassandra’s elbow as she began to pass her. “What is your favorite flower?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Consider it... an inquiring _ romantic _mind would like to know.” Ellana smiled at her, looking slightly up, as Cassandra was marginally taller than her slight elven stature.

Cassandra simply rolled her eyes again and continued walking without another word or sound. 

Ellana watched her go, a smirk playing her her lips. She watched as Cassandra shook her head to herself as she walked towards the armory. She’d apparently made a room for herself in there when they’d wandered into Skyhold some months ago now. 

Cassandra pulled the heavy wooden door open and stepped inside. But not a moment later she stepped back out and simply said: “Crystal grace.”

Ellana blinked. Cassandra was looking at the ground and not at her. “What?”

Cassandra sighed, a frown showing on her face. “Crystal grace is my favorite flower.” And with that, she went back through the door, closing it rather hard without a care for the concussive reverberations through the wood and stone that echoed in the courtyard. 

She smiled to herself. There were empty flower pots in the garden in need of sowing. The idea of planting seeds by moonlight sounded like the next best thing if she wasn’t able to elicit sounds of satisfaction from the woman she had an eye for. She even had crystal grace seeds in her private chambers that she’d pulled off of crystal grace bloom on her latest trip to the Hinterlands. 

She wasn’t known for being patient herself, often falling into beds with whomever was interested enough when she felt the inclination for intimacy. But if patience was the key to win the heart of the severe yet intriguing shemlen woman, then she would be as patient as etiquette dictated for such things. 


	3. Secrets? I love secrets! (Platonic Leliana & Gender Neutral Inquisitor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fictober2019
> 
> Thank you, @natsora for the prompt submission! 
> 
> Prompt #18 – “Secrets? I love secrets.” 
> 
> Fanfiction – Dragon Age: Inquisition
> 
> Pairing – Leliana and F!Inquisitor
> 
> So - I took a little bit of liberty with this prompt and changed it to Leliana and a gender-neutral Inquisitor. Enjoy!

“Oh! Secrets?” Ravune sat excitedly in the chair across from Leliana’s desk and scooted it forward animatedly before placing eager elbows on the wood and placing their hands on either side of their face. “I love secrets!”

Leliana suppressed her own smile. The dalish Inquisitor that sat before her was like no other elf she’d ever worked with, but Lyna Mahariel, the gray warden she’d fallen in love with almost ten years ago now, had told her about dalish elves like Ravune. They were often seen as spiritual guides among their people, as they themselves existed in a state of being devoid of a specific gender, or encompassing of all genders at once. The warden had tried to explain that the dalish believed that there were more than two genders, but Lyna would always get distracted before she could finish explaining things, either by Leliana’s wandering hands and lips or encroaching danger. But she was always careful to include that all dalish clans were different. Where most dalish held these Tan Elgar’dar, or those of three or more spirits, in high regard, other clans shunned them and exiled them. 

Ravune had many qualities of this, Leilana had noticed. Their lithe body yielded no indication of their gender, nor did the clothing they chose to dawn each morning or the way they pulled their long hair back in a traditional braid each morning. And the inquisitor was the only person that Solas seemed to respect, but the respect seemed to go far beyond the simple fact that Ravune was also a mage. Solas was more patient with them and often would listen instead of lecture. Solas acted like this only with Ravune; all other members of the inquisition he was uninterested in and normally spoke over or actively dismissed. 

She would be lying to herself to try and say that being around Ravune didn’t make her miss Lyna terribly. Not because the young elf reminded her of her love, no. But because they reminded her of what she was missing out on as the two remained parted. Though they still kept in contact, watching the young Inquisitor who was barely an adult by both elven and human standards made Leliana wonder what her life would have been like had Lyna not had to worry about the calling. Would they have adopted a child? And would that child have acted like Ravune, always bubbly and mischievous, and only sad or quiet when they thought they were utterly alone? 

Leliana knew her job was to coordinate her agents and keep the information continuously flowing to the inquisition and the Inquisitor, but she had started making a habit of checking up on Ravune when they were unaware. Watching from a distance or from the shadows. Something about Ravune’s demeanor made her matronly instincts kick in. In her last letter to Lyna, she’d relayed how working with the young elf made her feel and she was eager to hear how Lyna would take it. They had talked of children before. Maker knew there were plenty of orphaned children in need of a home. But Thedas always seemed to have more pressing plans for them to attend to first. 

Leliana brought her leg up and sat on the desk, playfully looking down as Ravune’s eyes stayed on her like an excited nug pup. 

“I have it on good authority that it is Cole who is doing all of those odd things you mentioned to me last week.”

“Oh,” Ravune said, laughter in their tone. “I already knew that! That’s not much of a secret!”

“What? How did you find out before me?”

“Well, I asked Cole, didn’t I?” Ravune grinned. “It clicked when I heard the cook talk about seeing it and then not remembering it. It sounded like how Cole interacts with those he helps so I asked him.”

Leliana frowned. “And he told you?”

“He did!” Ravune sat back in the chair and placed either of their hands behind their head. “Cole’s good people. He and I get along great. And he’s just trying to help.”

“I take it you didn’t tell him to stop?”

“Why would I? He’s not hurting anyone. He’s making people laugh.” Ravune looked out the small window of Leliana’s study. “It’s something we all need now and again.”

Leliana’s frown deepened before she followed Ravune’s gaze. On the ledge of the small window perched some of her personal ravens who were using the stone of the window frame to crack nuts open. Ravune watched them with an intensity that didn’t match their previous demeanor and she turned back to look at them. 

“I suppose you’re right, Inquisitor.” Surveying the young elf’s face, Leliana saw it - the flash of something that wasn’t the boisterous facade that Ravune often exuded. Their eyes were distant and their smile had fallen. 

_They have the weight of an entire world on their shoulders with the threat of Corypheus,_ Leliana reminded herself._ Fun is something they need more of. _

“Well,” she cleared her throat. “If that isn’t a good enough secret, I have plenty of others.”

Ravune’s attention snapped back to Leliana’s, the mischevious grin back on their face. “Oh? Do tell!” 

Leliana let herself smile. Despite being the chosen of Andraste, this young elf - no… this young child needed to have fun every now an again. And she had just the story about Josephine and her own nugs that would have them in a fit of giggles. She’d be sure to apologize to Josie later. But for now, Ravune’s rapt attention needed to be satiated.


End file.
